


Skyrim Mini's

by TinderWulf



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Breast Fucking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Dibella - Freeform, Dubious Consent, Multi, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Size Difference, Twincest, Vampire/Werewolf in human form, Werewolf/Human, forced beastiality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2019-11-03 21:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17885183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinderWulf/pseuds/TinderWulf
Summary: As titled, this will hold mini fics. Tags and/or pairings will be added with each chapter posted and it will be on going. PLEASE READ TAGS! I will also label each chapter with the pairing and tag for your warning.Pairings requests welcome. But f/m preferably. I can't write slash very well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Dragonborn/Tullius - Slight Necrophilia** Not beta read
> 
> * * *

Dibella was angry.

A Goddess of love, livid and hurting. 

Male’va kneeled gracefully in front of her Goddess as the angelic voice turned cold. “He dares spit at the feet of my worshippers by not bringing them pleasure! By using them for his own!”

Thus far, the Imperial half-breed had managed to remain neutral in the civil war. But with Alduin dead, Dibella wished for a quick end to the _distraction_ so that her followers could return to their lives. And joy. Male’va understood the need for the fighting to be done, it _was_ tiresome. But it wouldn’t be done as quickly as the Goddess wanted.

“My Champion,” Dibella said, her harsh tone once again returning to the soft melody she so often spoke with. “He calls upon another follower. He is darkening their souls by taking and giving them nothing in return.”

“You wish it to end,” Male’va stated as she rose and tilted her head up to the statue in front of her. “You wish for me to end the suffering of your subjects.”

“Yes,” the Goddess answered softly. “It must end.”

“He knows my face, my lady,” Male’va told her.

“Use the spell of illusion to change your appearance, my Champion. His dark lust will not notice once you open your robes.”

* * *

The Temple seemed to hold a heavy air of tension, though she knew why. The Dragonborn made her way to the room that held a Priestess, a beautiful Dunmer woman.

“Your prayers have been received, Priestess Dovero,” Male’va informed. “Dibella sends me to replace the girl this night.”

The woman’s shoulders slumped in relief telling the Dragonborn the message was delivered. Now it was time to prepare for her night with General Tullius. 

With a smirk she began to set out her guild leathers, black as night. She would not be entering his chamber the normal way. With her hair changing from a dark brown to a deep gold, she allowed the women to brush it. Her sea blue eyes turned to a gold brown as she whispered the words.

The women washing and preparing her paid her magic no mind, they were sent by the Priestess to ready Male’va to end the darkness that plagued Dibella’s loyal followers. 

She stood naked before the ice mirror, her body littered with hard muscle and scars. “Will I be too hard for his tastes, Lovalyn?” She asked the Altmer as his eyes took her in.

“I think not,” he answered huskily, the outline of his arousal pressing at his robes. “Though he asked for marked women.”

“A tattoo then? Have any in mind?” She asked as she spun.

“Long, delicate up one hip should have him salivating,” Lovalyn replied. Male’va stood perfectly still as she cool tingle of magic ran over her skin, deep purple marking appearing at her hip.

“These are beautiful,” she whispered as she checked her reflection. “I may keep them.”

“They are yours until you remove the spell,” the man answered before he stepped forward with her leathers. “Now, let us get you dressed so you can put an end to this madness.”

Becoming Dibella’s Champion had not been her goal when she knelt before the statue the first time. But she couldn’t deny the utter devotion she had for the Goddess. Especially when her followers were such talented lovers. Giving and generous. Shared joy and pleasure their only concern, not just in bed but throughout their daily life. It was very fulfilling.

* * *

The night was chilled, the air dry and cold as it so often was in this part of Skyrim. But she stars shone brightly in the sky, even more so without the moon dulling their vibrancy.

Sneaking into the window of Tullius’ bedchamber was rather easy. He likely thought it was too far up to be accessed. Male’va waited for the housecarl to do her sweep of the room and to stoke the fire before dropping down silently as the steward left the room, closing the door with a loud thump. 

The ebony scarab on her back was easily hidden under the plush mattress of the General’s bed. How nice it must be to be able to afford such a thing. But then, it was likely stolen. If it wasn’t so large, she’d consider stealing it herself. As it was, she was a little curious how they’d managed to get it all the way up the tower. 

Taking a seat near the fire, she waited. She didn’t have to wait long.

The General entered the room, dismissing his guard for the night before shutting and locking the door. 

It was time to play her game. With a quick call to her Goddess, Male’va rose from the chair silently and waited for the General to enter the room fully.

The second he caught sight of her, alarm in his eyes, she dipped to her knees in greeting before lifting her head. 

“Who are you?” He asked roughly, his hand on the hilt of his blade.

“I am Leva, General Tullius,” she whispered huskily. “I was told the followers of my dear Goddess left you…wanting.”

“Perhaps they did,” he told her, his shoulders relaxing. “That still does not answer my question.”

Perhaps he was smarter than he looked, and sounded. “I am one of Dibella’s most favored.”

“Most favored?” The man mumbled quietly his eyes raking the snugness of her leathers as she stood.

“Dibella did not want to leave you unsatisfied. May I?” She asked, lifting her hand to the buckle of his armor. 

“You may,” he answered huskily.

She took her time divesting him of his armors and weapons until he stood before her in a tunic and leggings. Before he could reach for her own buckles, she snagged his hand gently and led him to the chair she had vacated when he entered.

The fire crackled as she poured him a drink of his own wine. Her fingers grazed his as she slipped out of his reach and began the deliberately slow process of baring herself to him. With her back to him, she heard his soft moan as she pushed the leather over her hips. 

It was laughable that he be so easily aroused.

_Play his game, my Champion. Then show your hand._

Once she was freed from her clothing, she turned to him fully and let him take her in. His eyes were dark, breathing erratic, and hands tightly gripping the chair. He had some manners despite his misuse of Dibella’s subjects.

“Stand,” she ordered, her voice laced with false excitement. “Remove your clothing and lie on the bed.”

His body shuddered as he quickly complied. 

_My dear Goddess, you must prepare my body. I cannot fake my arousal with such a man._

She sighed when heat spread through her, the man’s cocky smirk filling her eyes. He thought she found him attractive. She had far better taste. For a military man he was soft, likely from too many sweet rolls. There were very few sculpted muscles visible. 

Pulling the purple silk scarf from her neck, she followed him to the bed.

It was rather enjoyable teasing him, making him beg as she glided the silk over his skin. Her devilish smirk thought to be sexual as he watched her, better for her to complete her mission and make her Goddess happy once more.

She did her best not to show her disgust at his ripe smell, it was her own fault for not making him bathe first. Still she hummed in _delight_ as she let her mouth ghost across his chest. 

“So wet for me,” he muttered as he plunged a rough finger inside of her. She smiled against his hip despite how little he seemed to know of giving pleasure. 

When his begging turned to whines, she straddled his hips while evading the cock he was trying to angle into her. The sooner this was finished, the sooner she wouldn't have to hear his awful voice.

“Soon,” she told him, her voice raspy with her own arousal. But not from his body or roaming hands. From what she had planned for him. “Will you trust me, my General?”

“Yes, yes,” he answered impatiently. With a soft smile, she folded the scarf and covered his eyes. “Naughty girl,” he praised as she knotted it tightly behind his head.

“Only to give you the best pleasure,” she whispered before trailing her fingertips over his lips.

“I shall keep you as my mistress,” he told her before his disgusting, pitiful groan filled the room as she took him side of her. “So warm and wet,” he praised.

“Only you for, my General,” she lied as she began to rock. His hands on her were going to be a problem when she reach for her blade. “You wish for pleasure you’ve never experienced?”

“Yes,” he moaned raggedly, his hands desperate to move her hips faster.

“You must follow my order,” she told him breathlessly. “Do not touch me, or move, until I give you permission.” He complained, his hands gripping her tighter. “Dibella wishes you to feel what the others could not give you.”

With his hands fisted in the sheets by her calves, his body glistening in sweat, she leaned over to grab the quill off of his night table. She ran the rough feather over his chin as she began rocking in earnest, his moans wanton. With him distracted, she easily slipped the blade free.

Heat poured into her core, her own moan pulling grunts from the writhing man below her. “Oh General,” she cooed with a feral smile. “You cock should be blessed by Dibella herself.”

His body stiffened, his back arched as began his orgasm. Swiftly, she lined the blade and pushed hard.

General Tullius didn’t get to complete his orgasm.

Blood sprayed from his neck, his body twitching uncontrollably under her. _In her._ She came with a pleased cry as his head separated from his body, her sword cutting into the pillow as his blood covered everything. Still, she continued to rock her hips to ride out her own pleasure on the still hard cock buried inside of her.

With a sigh, she sat up and stared down at her bosom. Twirling her finger in the spray of blood around her hard nipple she couldn’t help but hum. “I daresay, General, you are much more interesting without your head.”

* * *

It wasn't enjoyable entering the Palace of the Kings in a gown rather than armor. But Dibella had been insistent. And so very pleased with her Champion.

Male’va’s smile was internal as she heard the Jarl and his steward speaking of the general’s gory death. 

“He is so well protected, how was it possible?’ Ulfric mused from his throne.

“No need to be jealous, old friend.”

She stood before the throne awaiting to be spoken to. It was rather annoying, but then she hadn’t shown up in normal armor at Dibella’s request. But the armored dress of a vampire hung off of her like it was made specifically for her. 

The swell of her bosom’s caught the Jarl’s attention first before his eyes rose to her face. She knew she looked positively divine even with a dark purple dress. Her gold jewelry more than made up for the darkness.

“My lady,” the Jarl said finally as he adjusted his leggings. How she loved getting a _rise_ out of nobility. “How can I help you?”

“Jarl Ulfric,” she purred. “I come with a gift from Dibella.”

His brows shot up, “Dibella you say?”

“Aye,” she answered. 

“And what could the Goddess have for me?” He asked her, his eyes once again taking in the swell of her breasts.

“You have been good to her followers,” Male’va told him. “There are those that are not.”

“I worship Talos. I have no interest in worshiping others,” he told her as he once again moved to rest his head against his fingers, feigning disinterest. The bulge in his breeches told her otherwise.

“That matters little to my Goddess,” she informed him with a smile. “How her subjects are treated, however, does.” Male’va pulled the black leather pack off of her shoulder and held it out to the housecarl. “Her gift.”

Tension could have been broken with a gasp as Galmar Stone-Fist carefully took the bag from her fingers. She could feel the soldiers around the room slowly closing in behind her, ready to pounce if her gift endangers the Jarl.

While Ulfric’s attention was on his steward, she took the opportunity to take him in. He wasn’t very attractive, but his arua had an enchanting air about him. As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned his head slightly to meet her gaze.

The heat in his gaze made her clit throb with want. She loved a confident, strong man.

Galmar’s loud laugh stole the Jarl’s attention away from her. “I may start worshiping Dibella myself!” He shouted with humor.

“My dear, Galmar,” Male’va addressed him with a smirk. “Dibella is quite fond of you.” He laughed but a red blush covered his cheeks as he handed the bag to Ulfric, but not before giving her a wink. “I would very much like to see what the fuss is about, but later.”

Turning her attention back to the Jarl, “I’ve come to side with those that respect my Goddess.”

Jarl Ulfric stared at her slack jawed. “How?” He asked in awe. “How did someone get close enough to Tullius to take off his head?”

“As I said, not all are kind to Dibella’s worshipers.”

“Explain,” he ordered roughly before his face softened. “My lady,” he began again. “Please tell me the story.”

“I am Male’va Red-Stone, and I am Dibella’s Champion.”

“The Dragonborn?” Ulfric asked, the bag slipping from his fingers only for the frozen head of General Tullius to come rolling out of the bag. No one paid it any mind.

“Aye,” she answered. “Tullius used many of her more erotic subjects for his own pleasure, never giving any in return. Yet he was left needy and wanting because of his selfishness.”

“As her Champion you were called to her followers aid,” Ulfric surmised. “And you took his head off. Might I ask, was it before or after he found release?”

She smiled, the dangers glint in his eyes reflecting her own. “During, my Jarl.” She bent down, offering the Jarl a better view of her breasts as she plucked the helmet from the ground. “I do wish he’d been a decent lover, but finding my release as his blood covered my bosom, his body writhing beneath my own, wasn’t too bad of an experience.”

She looked up to both Jarl and housecarl staring at her with slack jaws. 

“Galmar Stone-Cock, as my Goddess likes to call you, would you please have this head removed from this helmet. The helmet needs cleaned but it belonged to Tullius. I thought the Jarl might like the token even if it wasn’t his own victory.”

“Stone-Cock?” Ulfric asked as he sat up straighter in his chair, humor dancing in his eyes.

“Aye,” Male’va replied huskily. “Stays hard for hours.”

The blushing Galmar took the helmet and disappeared. “Come,” Ulfric told her as he led her to a door. “I will gladly accept the gifts Dibella has given me,” he told her before digging into an organized stone box. “In exchange, I will give you the title of Thane of Windhelm, a personal housecarl of the best quality, and a home near the palace.”

“No silly tests to complete to become a Stormcloak?” She asked sweetly.

“Nay,” he told before pulling her body between him and the table. “I’m sure you will enjoy Stone-Cock,” he whispered teasingly. “But perhaps when his cock can’t take anymore, you would lay with me.”

She let the scroll glide across his neck, the deed to her very own home, as she enjoyed the feel of his length pressed against her waist and his fingers ghosting over the tops of her breasts. “My Jarl, perhaps my housecarl can be assigned to me immediately.” Heat pooled into her core when his fingers gripped her waist tighter. “I wish my new home to be ready to receive guests.”

“I can have an army of cleaners finished with it before nightfall,” he whispered as he moved his face closer. “Any specific requests?”

“Aye,” she returned softly. “We will dine in my new home, bathe each other slowly, then perhaps spend the rest of the night tangled in each others arms.”

His body shudder as he pressed tighter against her. “Champion indeed.”

“It’s not always sex,” she said as she laced her fingers in his hair. “It’s about joy, companionship, friendship…”

“Things I lack,” he finished. 

“Her love is very fulfilling,” she whispered against his lips. “I shall show you how grateful she is for your kindness.”

“Thank Talos I’m not a stingy lover,” he said, his voice but a mere rumble.

“That is one thing that sets you apart from Imperials,” she told him honestly. “My own mother never knew the joys of sex until she lay with my father.”

“I shall not take this gift for granted, Champion.”

“I suspect you won’t,” she whispered against his lips. “My King.”


	2. Vilkas/Farkas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Twincest** \- Not rated Explicit, more Teen. Just a little fic I had to get out of my head.
> 
> * * *

It had been utterly exhausting taking over as Harbinger of the Companions. There had been so much back log of not only jobs, but bookkeeping. It was frustrating.

Then there was Vilkas. The jerk still hated her with everything he was. More so after she declined the beast blood. His attitude towards her was vicious. But he was the reason she said no to ‘the gift’. She didn’t want the beast inside to be the beast outside. It made perfect sense to herself.

Grabbing a few parchments, she made her way down the dark, quiet hall to Vilkas’ room. He had a preferred type of job he liked to do and he was damn good at it. And since they always argued anytime either of them opened their mouths, she’d taken to just leaving the parchment on the table in his quarters for him to find when he awoke.

She spent a lot of time hunched over the damn desk and this time was no different. But every day she got closer and closer to being caught up. 

With her mind on the list of jobs she had for the others, she opened the room door and let herself in.

“Harbinger!” A male gasp came. 

When she looked up, she was stupefied. There lay naked in the small bed, the twins. Vilkas and Farkas. Vilkas’ body was tense, his eyes closed and erection waning. His brother Farkas was doing his best to cover his own erection while his face turned red and bottom lip trembled.

Seeing his fear and emotion snapped her back into herself. She gently closed the door completely and flicked the lock before turning back to the men just in time for Farkas to burst into tears.

“Oh, honey, don’t cry,” she told him, her own heart aching as the parchment fell to the floor forgotten.

“Farkas,” Vilkas growled. She told him to shut up without words. Just a squeeze to his leg.

“Don’t cry, I’m sorry I scared you,” she told the naked, babbling man before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “It is entirely my fault, Farkas,” she told him gently. “I forgot I moved you in here to make room for the whelps.”

His words were nearly too slurred to understand but she got the idea. “You are not disgusting nor are you unfit to be a Companion,” she told him sternly. That only made him cry harder. “Oh, honey,” she whispered as she rubbed his back. “It’s okay.”

She rested her cheek on top of Farkas’ head, her eyes meeting Vilkas’. “Do any others know?” He shook his head ‘no.’ “Okay, well…this is an easy fix,” she told her enemy companion, his body tensing. “You and Farkas can sleep in my chamber tonight.” She would not judge. They’d been each others whole life for so long. “I won’t make it down there until morning.”

Farkas shuddered, his skin chilled. She moved her arms as Vilkas pulled a fur over his brothers back.

“Then in order to keep this secret, I suggest you use my home. Perhaps even move in for a little more privacy. Lydia can remain here and help train.”

“Really?” Farkas asked, his head buried in her neck.

“Really,” she told him gently. “You are my family.”

“Even me? I have not been kind to you,” Vilkas asked as he rose from the bed and reached for his leggings. He’d never been the kind of man to be shy and it seemed his own nudity in front of a woman was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Not all families get along,” she told him before giving Farkas another tight hug before releasing him. “Now the reason I came by, I’ve got a couple job for you two. I’ll be in my office tonight so just let me know before I crash in the morning.”

“You’re the best shield-sister!” Farkas said with a smile before he wrapped her in a tight hug while gloriously naked. Even Vilkas’ scowl cracked into a smirk at her surprise.

“Anything for family,” she told him. “As much as I enjoy the sight of a naked, attractive man, could you please dress, dear?”

She waited until the men were fully clothed before they exited the room together. Her bedchamber was the most private and she’d had several lovers in and out of it so their scents wouldn’t really be noticed. 

With another problem solved, and the possibility of giving Lydia something fulfilling to do, she returned to her office to pick up where she’d left off.

“Harbinger,” a soft voice came, her body tensed in shock at the kind tone behind the word. 

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” Vilkas told her.

“Aye,” she breathed. “You are my brother. I’d die for you,” she told him honestly.

“I misjudged you.”

“Many do,” she told him with a sad smile. “But that is the way of things.” Waving away the seriousness of the conversation, she grabbed a scroll and held it out to him.

“What’s this?”

“Lock the door behind you when you enter my chamber,” she told him firmly. “This is a spell and don’t look at me like that, Vilkas. It is very simple to do and it will ensure you can enjoy each other as loudly as you wish without being heard outside my door.” She smiled when his eyes widened. “How do you think students are able to bed each other in the college without being heard?”

“And the scroll?”

“The wording is important so use it and memorize it so that you can have the spell at any time.”

“A muting spell,” he murmured as he took the scroll from her. “Magic may have its uses after all.”

She chuckled, “Go now, Farkas will be eager,” she told him as she focused her eyes back on the parchment. “Such joy in that boy.”

“I love him,” Vilkas admitted quietly.

“Aye, I know.” She gave Vilkas a soft smile. “Now you can show him how much without worry.”

There were far more important things for her to worry about. Like diseased skeever infecting goats. Or cannibalistic Forsworn. This relationship between the twins didn’t even make a blip on her radar. Surprised her yes, but you can’t be Dragonborn without being able to adapt quickly to change.

She just hoped they changed her bedding before she fell into her bed come morning.


	3. No pairing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G to T. Just a little drabble.
> 
> * * *

The warm summer wind ghosted over her skin, a small smile on her lips as she stretched. The defeat of Alduin had been a month ago. In that time, she’d taken this old castle and its near ruined city below and turned it into a thriving community. And her home.

Jarl Balgruuf had been seething with jealousy when she came to move her items from Breezehome, going to far as to threaten to take her title of Thane away simply because she had her own little city. She thought it had more to do with the mild weather and temperatures of her new home than the actual thought that she ran her own _kingdom_. The man only succeeded in driving some of his own people to her.

The weather was lovely here.

And Lydia… she traveled here with her. In return, Lyvia had given her housecarl a nice sized room of her own with a luxury bed. 

Removing herself from her bed, she rose and descended the steps from the platform of her massive bed to the cool stone. 

All the homes she had couldn’t compare to the rooms she was in now. She loved it. Not only the weather but the scent in the air. She could hear the blacksmith beating away at his work as it echoed through the hold, the murmur of merchants and customers, and the occasional laughter of happy children. 

It was perfect, but the thing she truly loved most? Indoor plumbing. Never in her life had she witnessed such a thing. Warm water for her bath was but a pump away of a lever that came up several floors where her staff always had it prepared for her first thing in the morning. 

Then there was the odd thing called a stool house, in its own little nook with a door. It smelled, yes, but it was still better than pouring urine out the window. The waste was carried away through stone tunnels and she had no idea where it ended up. It was the same with her bath water. Lyvia was sure this castle must have been dwarven constructed.

With a happy sigh, she began to pump the heated water into her metal tub. There was a busy day ahead of her as they opened a newly finished section of her hold.

* * *

The throne room was rather small, per her request. They’d converted a large side room into the throne room while leaving the hall as a waiting area. Tables and chairs were set up with food as her callers awaited their turn to be called on and there were guards everywhere.

Her guards consisted of men and women from many backgrounds. The first time someone muttered a racial slur toward a former Imperial, Lyvia had paralyzed them and in her anger, wanted to slit his throat. In the end, she didn’t and not one slur had been overheard to her knowledge. 

“My Lady,” her steward said. “Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

She had been curious which leader of the civil war would approach her first. Unless he felt challenged and he was here to try and shout her to pieces. He could try, she thought with a smile as she entered the throne room, Lydia two steps ahead of her.

“Show him in,” Lyvia ordered as she grabbed some fresh food from a small table and took her seat in her “throne.”

Two men entered the room, one of which brought a smile to her face. “Galmar Stone-Fist,” Lyvia greeted with a warm smile before setting her plate down and wrapping the man in a tight hug. 

“I can’t believe _you_ are the Dragonborn,” he mused when they separated.

“If I remember correctly, you did make me shout. A few times,” she teased. “And that must mean this is Ulfric Stormcloak.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Dragonborn,” he said cordially, kissing her knuckles in greeting.

“Pish posh, let’s do away with titles this morning and speak as soldiers.”

“As you wish,” Ulfric stated.

“Please, grab a plate and come break your fast with me,” she invited as she pointed to the buffet before sitting down at her stone table.

She didn’t bother with decorum as she began to dig in before her eggs were cold. She hummed in delight. Hiring the sisters had been an excellent decision. She did wait until they sat with her before she began speaking. “Will you be needing a room?”

“If you have room for us,” Galmar stated. “We haven’t checked at the Dragonborn Inn yet.”

Lyvia nodded to Lydia who in turn told the steward to fetch the newest housekeeper. 

“Talos preserve me, these are the most delicious eggs I’ve ever tasted,” Ulfric exclaimed before stuffing his mouth with another spoonful.

“Aye,” Lyvia agreed. “I saved a pair of sisters from bandits a fortnight ago. Orphans,” she added. No need to spill the details. “Anyway, they needed a safe place to grow and they had skill in the kitchen.”

Before Ulfric could respond, a bouncing girl flew into the room, her curtsy awkward. “You sent for me Lady Dragonborn?”

“My dear, I am not royalty, there is no need to bow to me,” Lyvia told her before wrapping the child in a hug. “The adjoining rooms that are located in the hall to my own chambers, do you know them?”

“Yes, Lady Dragonborn, I dusted them yesterday,” Sophie stated. 

“Excellent,” Lyvia praised. “Would you please prepare them for our guests?”

“Yes, my lady,” Sophie said before running off to fulfill her task.

“Where’d you get that one?” Galmar asked.

She could lie, but then, she didn’t lie. “A homeless girl living on the street in Windhelm.”

“We have homeless?” Ulfric asked, his brow pinching. 

“At least fourteen since my last visit,” Lyvia answered. “Windhelm is a shithole, no offense.”

“None taken,” Ulfric replied, his brow raised in surprise.

“How’d you get this place? I thought it haunted?” Galmar asked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“It was. The former owner had had it in the family for many years, generations I believe. I won it in a card game,” she said with a smirk. “Found him face down in a pond the following day.” She took another bite, savoring the flavors before swallowing. “I cleared the haunting, took up residence. That was six months ago.”

“And now you have a flourishing city,” Ulfric said with pride.

“I didn’t invite people in, nor did I turn them away. Before I even killed Alduin, the occupancy had grown far more than I ever expected it to.”

“Even Solitude doesn’t compare to this place,” Galmar said. 

“I love it here,” she admitted. “Nothing better than sleeping naked with warm air gliding over your skin.” She smiled at the slack jaws. “Finish eating, then we shall walk and talk.

* * *

She led them through the new guard, or Dragon Guard, bunkhouse to a door leading to the walls. They were silent as she led them past stone apartments to a balcony that overlooked the market.

“Ulfric, what do you see here?” She asked him as they watched the people.

“Buy, selling, trading… normal merchant business,” he answered easily.

“And how many races do you see?”

He was quiet as he took in the details of the humming market. She loved to watch this area and many of the people waved when they caught sight of her.

“All of them,” he answered quietly. 

“They call this hold Dragonborn Village,” she told him. “I didn’t name anything here.”

“They love you.”

“Aye, and I them. When we had an influx of travelers looking for a safe haven, there were a few issues with the different races.”

“They all look so happy,” he observed.

“Those that willingly live next to a neighbor of a different race are welcomed. Those that turn their nose at a Kahjit merchant or a Dunmer neighbor are led to the gates and told to leave,” she told him. “I am the Dragonborn, I serve all of Tamriel and all the races that includes.”

“And you don’t have problems?”

“I don’t tolerate hate,” she answered firmly. “People want a safe place so they abide by my wishes.” Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she’d have a home like this. “Now, on to the reason you’re here.”

“I came with a request for you to join my cause,” he told her, straightening his spine.

“Why should I?”

The Jarl was quiet, his gaze overlooking the market as children dashed and Nord’s laughed with Dark Elves. “I want this for all of Skyrim,” he told her as he met her eyes. “To worship whom we choose, to love, and laugh and have children.”

“Do you know what happens to those that deceive me?” She asked him just to make perfectly clear where she stood.

Ulfric smirked, “I can well imagine with the power of the Voice within you.”

“Good,” she told him. “General Tullius sent me a summons.” 

Galmar laughed heartily. “I know how well those work with you.”

“That you do,” she told him with a wink. “I refuse to be summoned. I am not some parlor trick nor some treasure to be had.” Lyvia faced the two men. “I am a flesh and blood woman that only wants peace. Any who endanger the lives of the people that are trusting me with their safety will die by my hand. Including you, Ulfric, if you go back on your word.”

“I understand,” Ulfric responded. 

They stared at each other for several long seconds before released a breath. “Aye, I will aid you. But I must speak with my steward to make sure the forgotten below us aren’t left without a caregiver if I die.”

“Help me gain the crown of High-King, and your hold will be welcomed into the kingdom,” he told her with a smile. “Jarl Lyvia of Dragonborn Village.”

“I’m sure that will go over well with Elisif and Balgruuf,” she replied before chuckling. 

“Perhaps the title of High-Queen Stormcloak?” Ulfric asked with a smirk.

“Being your wife means I can’t bed Galmar, and I so do enjoy his attention,” she teased making Galmar groan at her antics. “Besides, this is my home and I will not leave it.” _Indoor_ plumbing!

“Aye,” Ulfric agreed. “We can work out the details of everything later.”

“The details of me bedding you and Galmar while I carry your child?” She asked, her tone flirty.

Ulfric laughed, “By Talos you weren’t kidding about her. Saucy wench!”

Lyvia smiled as she put her arm in each of the men’s. “Come, let us mingle with the populace.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Breton Fem Dragonborn/Bolund** No Trigger Warnings

Davian wiped a layer a sweat from her forehead as she stared at the home known as Lakeview Manor. She’d been working non-stop to finish her home while she had time. There hadn’t been much of that. For such a dreary location, it seemed to be far too warm. Or maybe it was because all the clothing she had was thick.

With Rayya off doing errands for her, Davi decided she would just work on what she could without assistance. A new load of lumber should be on its way and by nightfall, Davi would have clothing better fitting the warmth of Falkreath. 

Sweat glistened her body, her leather bodice drenched and her leggings quickly becoming the same. But it couldn’t be helped. It was indecent enough forging nails in a breast binding bodice. She couldn’t very well do it in her smalls. 

With a sigh, she continued to beat away at the iron when all she really wanted to do was bathe away the grime from the last few days of working. An old rag and basin could only do so much. 

“Dragonborn,” a voice called making her heart jump in her throat as she turned prepared to fight. Bolund stood with his hands up, his eyes wide.

“Bolund! You nearly frightened me to death!” She told him roughly before chuckling at her own skittishness. “What brings you out here?” Normally he sent others to deliver wood.

The mans face reddened when his eyes dropped below her neck before he turned his face away. “Solaf said you needed some things right away.”

“Please tell me you brought a bath tub,” she whined. 

His chuckle was soft. “Aye,” he answered. 

Davi and Bolund hadn’t got off to the best start simply because she wasn’t Nord. But she understood the mistrusting looks. “I could marry you,” she told him excitedly before wrapping her arms around his waist in joy only to freeze when a hard length pressed against her stomach. Bolund had stopped breathing completely. “Oh my,” she whispered.

He hadn’t moved an inch.

“Bolund?”

“Aye,” he answered roughly.

“Is this package for me too?” She asked him sweetly. She’d wanted him since the first moment he snarled at her. When he didn’t answer, she pulled away. “Let’s unload the cart.” She swallowed down the disappointment and opened the door to her home before moving to the cart he’d parked next to the few remaining pieces of lumber she had.

He still hadn’t moved. She just may have broken the fragile friendship that had been blooming. She was such a damned idiot. With a grunt she hefted a basket filled with food.

Bolund interrupted.

“You’re too small to unload,” he said roughly.

“Because I’m not Nord, you mean,” she answered. That was the real problem. Her lineage. It pissed her off. She was livid.

Before he could argue, a trio of bandits charged out of the woods, their heavy leather nearly silent as they ran towards her.

Grabbing the small war axe from her leggings, she Shouted. “FUS!” The men almost comically fell over. One landed on his own blade, the other two couldn’t even get on their feet before she’d dealt with them. Fighting was a nice channel for her anger.

She wiped her blade on her leggings before dropping it back into its place. If her leather bodice and leggings hadn’t been ruined by sweat, they’d definitely be ruined by the blood.

Davi groaned in aggravation. She was going to have to wear blood and sweat soaked leathers until Rayya returned. She grumbled, now angry for a different reason, as she returned to the cart and hefted the basket once more.

The men of this damned country were going to drive her insane. She’d have better luck in Riften. Slimy as it may be, many races lived there without much issue. 

Ignoring Bolund, she carried as much as she was physically able to carry into the house. Then she returned to her anvil to take her anger out on the iron.

* * *

Solaf was tiring of the housecarl. “Rayya, I’m sorry but this is all I have,” he told her again. It was nearing dusk, he wanted to close the shop and get some rest. When Bolund entered, he nodded.

“My Thane has no clothing for this temperature! You must have something, men’s clothing even. She isn’t picky.”

Before Solaf could reply, Bolund cut in. “She has even less clothing now.” Solaf nearly laughed at the shocked look on the housecarls face. “She took down three bandits,” Bolund said finally.

“I’m sorry, Rayya,” Solaf continued. “I don’t have anything but fur cloaks right now.”

Rayya groaned. “Those were her last set of clothing. My Thane is going to kill me.”

“Try the next town,” Solaf told her. “If you ride hard you should get there before nightfall.”

“I can’t just ride off without telling her,” Rayya said harshly.

“I’ll tell her,” Bolund volunteered. “She can borrow a few of my old tunics.”

Rayya visibly relaxed. “She’ll likely be in the basement if she finished setting up today.” Bolund nodded and made his way up the stairs. “Solaf, thank you. She’s been working so hard to build her library.”

“I have some nails and goat horns in stock I can send with Bolund if it helps.”

“It would help a lot,” Rayya told him. “Any books you have as well.”

Solaf smiled to himself as he gathered the supplies. Since the Dragonborn had made Falkreath one of her homes, his business had picked up as travelers began to pass through. She’d helped their economy without knowing it.

When Bolund came down the stairs while stuffing his favorite tunic in the satchel, Solaf got really curious. “What ails you, brother?”

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’ve been quiet lately, then I see you packing your favorite tunic for the Dragonborn…”

“I find her attractive,” Bolund admitted roughly.

Solaf hid his amusement. Bolund wasn’t eloquent and he hardly tolerated any races outside of the Nord. This was definitely interesting. “Why not tell her? Because of your dislike for magic or Breton’s?”

“She deserves more than an old, dumb Nord that works a lumber mill, Solaf.”

“She sides with Ulfric, she fights for us,” Solaf told him seriously. “Small she may be, but vicious she is. Let her decide what she wants.”

* * *

She wished she’d taken the time to put better stairs in the basement. Instead, she’d been in a hurry and just secured a ladder. But now, bone tired, she regretted the decision. With a sigh she closed the door to the basement and made her way to the kitchen to see if her water was warm yet. 

“Dragonborn,” a soft voice called.

“Damnit, Bolund!” she sputtered. “Do you enjoy startling me?”

“No,” he answered but she saw his mouth twitch in amusement.

“You haven’t bathed,” he stated.

The blood had dried on her leather bodice, leaving an itchy uncomfortable feeling behind. But until Rayya returned with clothing there was little she could do unless she wished to walk around mostly naked.

“All I can manage alone is wiping myself down. Rayya should be in soon so I’ll at least have a change of clothes.”

“She went to the nearest town,” Bolund told her. “I’ll fill your bath.”

“Bolund,” she started but sighed. “There’s no point. My tunic is filthy and I haven’t had time to clean it.”

“Rayya was upset so I brought you two of mine,” he said quietly, a light blush covering his cheeks. “I will fill your bath and prepare you’re a meal.”

“Really?”

“Aye,” he answered as he set his satchel on the table.

* * *

With the water cooling quickly, she knew she needed to get out. But it had been so long since she’d got to have a full bath.

“Do you need any more water?” Bolund’s deep voice called from the other side of the screen.

“Well,” she answered. Normally Rayya helped her rinse. “I need to be rinsed.” She wasn’t weak but she wasn’t stout either. “Would you be comfortable assisting me?”

He cleared his throat and she mentally prepared herself with injuring her head again. “I’ll help.”

When he entered he kept his face down but she could see the crimson blush against his pale skin. It was endearing. She stood, ignoring her desire to turn and face him as he slowly poured the bucket of water over her head. She ran her hands through her hair and over her body quickly as the water pushed the soap into the tub.

“Now towel,” she told him as she turned. His eyes were squeezed shut as he held the towel open for her. She would have laughed if she wasn’t so aroused. Davi gripped his shoulders as she carefully stepped over the side of the tub. The heat from him was so very welcoming.

She swallowed when she stepped into the waiting towel. “Thank you, Bolund,” she told him softly. When he only nodded, his eyes still shut tight, she spoke again. “Do I disgust you? Being elven and human…”

“Nay,” he answered roughly.

She didn’t know what to say when he gave her nothing else. But with the scent of something burning… wait. “What’s burning?”

His eyes opened wide before he cursed and took off to the kitchen leaving her standing in the back room in nothing but a towel. She sighed and made her way to the stairs. She knew she had clean smalls waiting for her.

When she entered her space, there was a clean tunic laying on her bed. She lifted it, the deep blue somewhat faded from use. The scent coming off of it smelled like Bolund. She glanced around noticing the other tunic he mentioned was folded neatly in the chair. He was so damned sweet. 

Pulling the tunic over her head, she set about working her softening cream into her hair. It felt so good to be clean from head to toe, and to be wrapped and cleaning clothing was just as wonderful.

“Dragonborn?” Bolund called from the balcony that led to the beds. 

“Call me Davi, and I’m decent enough,” she told him as she rubbed the extra cream into her feet only to notice she’d forgotten her smalls. She debated grabbing them, but she was too tired to care. The tunic was long enough to be considered a bed dress.

“I brought your meal,” he told her as he stepped into the area fully as she began to run an iron comb through her hair. It was probably time to cut it, especially with her hands aching from all the smithing today. “Would you like me to do that?” He asked her.

“That would be nice,” she answered. “I spent too much time forging nails today.”

She couldn’t stop the sigh that left her when he began to gently run the iron comb through her hair. It was insanely relaxing. She tried to focus on the warm stew and bread he had thrust into her hands before he sat behind her. It was difficult, but the food smelled amazing.

She took a spoonful, enjoying the explosion of flavors on her mouth before she swallowed. “Did you cook this?”

“Aye,” he answered. “My mothers recipe.”

“It’s incredible,” she told him honestly. 

It didn’t take her long to scarf down the bowl of food. And with the fingers in her hair, she felt herself leaning against the warmth at her back as her eyes drifted closed. 

She inhaled sharply when the warmth disappeared only to be replaced by a cool bed. Bolund was already blowing out candles when she found him through tired eyes.

“Bolund,” she whispered. He was at her side in an instant. She patted the bed next to her. After a moment of hesitation be reclined next to her. “Why do you deny me?”

“You can do better,” he answered quietly.

“There are none better than you,” she told him as she scooted closer to him so she could touch his face.

“I’m old.”

She smiled, “You are but a few years older than I.”

“I don’t make much coin,” he continued as she moved her fingers from his jaw to his hair. 

“I make plenty.” Gripping the back of his neck, she pulled herself up enough to graze her mouth over his.

“I’m filthy and I smell,” he whispered against her lips.

“You smell like fresh cut wood and hard work. Both of which I enjoy,” she said. “Any other excuses?”

His chuckle was rough. She gasped as his calloused palm glided up her thigh to her hip. “I should have known,” he whispered huskily giving her bare hip a squeeze. “No smalls. Wearing only my favorite tunic,” he whispered as he teased her with his lips. She whimpered. “I should have known I wouldn’t be able to resist you any longer.”

She moaned when his mouth claimed hers. 

Their lips only parted long enough for him to strip before he joined her on the bed again. When she tried to remove the tunic from her own body, he stilled her hand.

“Leave it on,” he told her. “I enjoy seeing you in my clothing.”

His breath stuttered when she agreed, then he was pulling her on top of him, knees on either side of his hips as he ground his cock against her cunt. Her tongue was soft against his, his hands gripping her hips as her arousal coated his length.

When she could take no more of this teasing, she sat upand met his blue eyes. She raised her hips and let him guide himself to her opening before she slowly began to work herself down on him, their moans meeting in the air as she took all of him. 

“Too much?” He asked roughly, his voice thick with need. She knew he would stop if it was.

She shook her head as she let herself adjust to his girth before she began rocking her hips. 

-

Bolund watched as she began to rock, her breasts swaying under the material of his favorite tunic. It was erotic. And enchanting.

Her long brown hair dripped water on his thighs, her face flushed in the candlelight as she moved over him. “So beautiful,” he whispered, her lust filled eyes opening to look at him. Her moan was low when he slid his thumb between her folds, letting her movement do the work to bring her more pleasure. Talos he wanted to fill her. He wanted to see her heavy with his child, to love her and worship her as often as possible.

Her whimper grabbed his attention, her hips moving faster as she sought her treasure. 

“Davian,” he murmured. He was close to his own release, her own breathing just as harsh as hers. Electricity surged down his spine when she cried out, her walls fluttering around his cock as she ground her hips down onto him roughly. “Davi,” he warned, but she couldn’t hear him through her own ecstasy.

He came with a shout, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust up into her. Guilt filled him as he poured his seed inside of her small body. Joy and guilt.

* * *

**Two Years Later**

Bolund’s breath caught when he saw her. Skyrim was now under the rule of Ulfric Stormcloak, her Dragonborn duties complete but still she had to travel for various reasons. 

“Da?”

“Aye, son,” Bolund replied to the brown haired, blue eyed boy. “That’s your mother riding in.”

The boy was too young to understand most of what was said, but he talked to him like he did anyway. The fur cloak surrounding his wife told him she’d just come from the mountains. He couldn’t wait to get her into his favorite tunic. Into their bed. Between her legs…

“My love,” he greeted when she was closer. “We have missed you these last three months.” Her smile still made his heart flutter. Even a scroll from a courier made his blood race faster.

“And I have missed you,” she returned.

Bolund waved off Rayya as he approached his wife. “Aren’t you too warm?”

“Aye, but I did not wish to stop, I was eager to be home.”

Bolund smiled up at her before offering his hand like he always did. She was so graceful. “I was delayed.”

“Why?”

“For the same reason I will need more than a hand to get me off this horse,” she told him with a smile.

“Are you injured?” He asked quickly as he easily lifted her from her horse. “Why aren’t you in armor?”

His worry quickly vanished when she wrapped her small arms around his middle, a hard bump pressing into him. “I don’t think being with child counts as an injury, but it is the reason for my delay.”

“With child,” he repeated dumbly.

“Aye,” she replied with humor. “I chose not to travel after dusk.” He watched as she pressed her nose to his chest and inhaled. Her body relaxed as she exhaled. “Do you think we’ll get a girl this time? Or another strong boy?”

They were having another child. He chuckled, joy filling his soul as he lifted her into a bridal carry. “It matters little as long as they are healthy,” he told her. Any children she gave him, no matter how few, would be far more than he ever expected to have in life. “A bath to wash away your travels, a warm meal, and time with our family,” he told her as he carried her through the door.

“Ma!” Their son squealed excitedly. 

“Aye, love,” she agreed. “But first let me take him in. He’s grown so much.”

Bolund watched as she shed her heavy fur, her swollen stomach filling him with pride as she knelt down to pull her son into her arms. He never thought he’d retire from the lumber mill or that his wife made more coin than he’d ever seen in his life. But this was where life had brought him. The coin wasn’t important, but getting to be here every day and live a life raising children was far more fulfilling than anything he’d ever imagined.

Sometimes they traveled with her to one of her many estates across Skyrim, but with a baby on the way it looked like they’d be staying put for a while. 

Which meant more time for him to worship her.


	5. Mercer Non-Con

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: Forced drug abuse - Rape/Non-Con**
> 
> **Mercer Frey**
> 
> * * *

Watching the former Guildmaster, Mercer Frey, get pounded from behind was rather enjoyable if she did say so herself.

She’d dragged the slimy piece of crap to Markarth and started making some extra coin by whoring him out. By the end of the day, he was begging for forgiveness. Promising to swear fealty to her and her alone.

If it weren’t for his massive cock, she might have just killed him already. But the bastard had seduced her when she joined the guild then tried to turn her on her new friends. She wasn’t so easily manipulated, but she was addicted to his penis.

Mercer grunt as the large Nord filled him. When the man removed himself, Mercer fell forward onto the stone bed, his shackles jingling with his movement. It made her wet to hear that sound. The Nord let himself out, pulling the door shut behind him.

“On your back,” she ordered as she disrobed.

“Please,” he begged pitifully as he obeyed. His wrists were bruised from the iron cuffs, his asshole leaking semen. “I would give you anything for this to end.”

“You murdered and stole from your own family,” she told him as she lifted the vial from the bedside table. “Should I have left you there to be tortured, healed, then tortured again? Surely this punishment is less painful.”

“Please,” he whispered as she leaned over him.

“Be a good boy and open your mouth,” she told him. A tear slid free as he did so. Skooma was wonderful for forcing arousal. “You should never have seduced me, Mercer,” she scolded. “Then try to make me stab a guild mate in the back.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” she told him as she caressed his face gently. He leaned into her touch. He was almost hers. She slid her fingers over her breast as she watched his cock expand. She was already dripping to ride him. “Mmm, look at you, Mercer,” she whispered, her fingers moving down over her ribs. “Getting so hard for me. Do you love me?”

“Yes,” he whispered breathily.

“And when you have a cock in your ass do you love me?”

“So much,” he answered.

“I have a man wanting to ride this cock of yours tomorrow. Will you still love me when his cum covers you?”

“Yes,” he whimpered. His pupils were blown wide with desire, his cock thick and heavy as the drug took over. He wasn’t quite as feral as she wanted right now. 

She straddled his thigh as began to rub herself on him while she held another dose of skooma over his mouth. He took it eagerly. “Such a good boy,” she praised, giving his cock a squeeze. His arms moved to reach for her, the chain connecting from the wall to his cuffs stopping his movement. But the jingle made her gasp.

“Please,” he begged quietly. 

“On your knees,” she told him after removing herself from the bed. 

He knelt obediently, awaiting orders as she lay herself on the bed, moving a pillow under her hips. His naked skin was flushed and beginning to sweat, the pulse in his neck beating wildly as he stared between her spread legs.

He’d have very little movement for his arms, but there would be plenty for him to fuck her. 

She ignored his pleas until he began trying to fuck the air, his cock leaking as the drug poured arousal into him. “You will make me come,” she told him. 

His reaction was immediate. If she hadn’t been so wet it would have been painful as he thrust himself inside of her. The chain jingled as his hips slapped roughly into her. Mercer’s eyes were on her bouncing breasts as he rushed them both towards completion.

The way he growled, the way his body curved into hers as she cried out her pleasure, and the way the chains clanked together were far more arousing than she ever expected such a thing to be.

Nay, she’d keep him. At least until she had her fill. Then she’d kill him.


	6. Arnbjorn/Listener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Non-Con, Forced Beastiality, Werewolf/Listener**
> 
> Arnbjorn/Listener

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, as I warned some of these chapters are darker than others. Please remember to check the tags before reading. 
> 
> Also, I will take pairing/mini plot ideas. PWP, etc. Just keep in mind I cannot write slash/femslash to save my life. Just drop a pairing and a possible plot (if you have something in mind) in the comments and I'll see if I can whip something up!
> 
> * * *

The Listener circled the shivering body of the traitor, Astrid. 

“She’s your wife,” she told Arnbjorn. “Make her death quick or slow, so long as she dies.”

The man nodded, his anger radiating off of him. His wife had nearly had them all discovered. She’d nearly killed them.

She watched as the man cut the clothes from his wifes body before dragging her by her hair to the pit. The bitch cried and begged but it would not save her. 

The Listener watched from the balcony overlooking the pen and waited as Arnbjorn tossed Astrid in like a rag doll before shutting and locking the door. The caged dogs began barking and growling as Astrid struggled to her feet, her eyes wide in panic.

Arnbjorn stood beside her.

“This is what you wish?” She asked him quietly.

“Yes,” he answered angrily. “She betrayed us all.”

“Then lift the lever,” she commanded.

Astrid screamed, pleading not to do it as the gates began to rise. But it was too late for her. The fighting dogs were expecting a meal. 

The Listener chuckled when a dog tried to mount Astrid as soon as the mangy beast knocked her to the ground. “She had a fine beast and now she gets scraps.” Astrid screamed when the dog penetrated her, its rapid thrusts making the other dogs growl as they nipped at the womans dirtied skin. 

Heat swirled in her core as another dog began to take the bitch. Arnbjorn growled deep in his chest as he slowly moved behind the Listener. It was easy to forget he was half beast, and could smell everything. 

“When was the last time you mated in beast form?” She asked him as she watched the scene below. The dogs nipped and growled, demanding their turn.

“Years,” he answered as he pressed himself against her backside.

“And if I asked it of you right now?” She asked him as she lifted her skirt, baring her wet cunt to him. “Would you take me in beast form?”

The man growled, his eyes shining as he quickly disposed of his clothing. The transformation was quick. The Listener dipped her fingers between her lips before holding them out to his snout. “Taste me.” Her thighs pressed together as she let her skirt fall into place as his tongue licked her fingers clean.

His growl only aroused her more. She stepped into his space as another tortured scream filled the room. “I can’t believe she’d bed another after having you,” she told him before kissing his furry jaw. “Massive, strong,” she continued. “Look at the whore now, getting rammed by mangy mutts.”

Stepping away, she gave him a smirk as she lifted her skirt and leaned her forearms on the ledge. Astrid was puking, blood from scratches seeped from her body as another dog mounted her weakening form. The Listener lightly gripped the fur of Arnbjorn’s neck as he stepped in behind her, the wet cock gently seeking as he shallowly rutted against her.

“I will take all of you beast,” she whispered to him. She moaned as his slid inside of her, his growl spooking the dogs and gaining Astrid’s watery eyes. “Show her what she could have had.” He was slow thrusting himself inside of her. His large hands squeezing her covered breasts as they bounced with his rhythm. 

The Listener opened her eyes and stared down at the worthless traitor as the biggest mutt gripped her arm and jerk her down. _That’s it bitch, bow to your fucking betters._ Atrid’s scream echoed off of the stone walls as the dog mounted her, his cock finding the wrong hole.

Arnbjorn snarled, his hips snapping harder into her as his knot swelled. The Listener quickly moved her fingers to her clit as the beast consumed her. Her cry of pleasure was loud as she came around the cock moving frantically inside of her, then she was praising him.

“Oh yes, give me the knot,” she pleaded. Hot ropes of cum warmed her sheath as he locked himself inside of her. She lay her heated cheek on the stone as his knot expanded to hold them in place.

The Listener sighed happily as large beast hands carefully caressed her armored upper body. “I would not have ever lay with another if I got to call you mine,” she whispered. 

They stay connected for long minutes as she watched the dogs below fight over the new bitch that was unconscious on the ground. The Listener thought for sure they’d eat her, and maybe they would. Eventually. 

Beast claws turned to human hands as his cock slid free from her body, but he didn’t stop touching. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she answered as she stood and turned to him. “You are, as always, magnificent.” He kissed her hard, his tongue delving into her mouth like he was desperate for her.


	7. Galmar/Drgonborn/Ulfric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galmar/Dragonborn/Ulfric - Threesome, Funsome

It wasn’t very often she got her house to herself. Calder rarely left unless she had him on an errand. Tonight was different. Her housecarl had friends in town and he would be out late catching up. 

With a happy sigh, she pulled her soft robe over her naked body. A bath had been just the thing she’d needed after such a stressful week. Entering her bedchamber, she sat down at her desk and began to apply her creams. One for her hair to soften it, another for her skin to keep it from drying out. It was little things like these creams she’d learned to make that helped her relax even further. 

Braiding, however, was still a skill she had yet to pick up. And that was the only reason why she kept her hair at her shoulders. She couldn’t very well expect her housecarls to fix her hair for her every day. That was just silly.

A knock sounded at the door. She sighed wondering who would be bothering her at this late in the evening. The sound came again only for her to realize Calder wasn’t in. 

“I’m coming!” She called as she quickly descended the stairs. She hoped they weren’t the type to mind her being in a thin robe. “What?” She asked roughly as she pulled the door open. Galmar stood on the other side, his mouth open and eyes wide as he took her in. “Well? Don’t just stand there, come in,” she commanded. “It’s cold!”

“I’m sorry, Dragonborn,” he said as she shut the door and turned the lock. “I thought Calder would answer.”

“Calder is enjoying a deserved night off,” she replied. “And for the last time, Galmar, call me Rava.” She sighed when he said nothing. He stood with his back to her, his body still. She smirked, she’d seen this stance many times. “Now,” she said softly as she circled into his line of sight. There was the barest bit of cleavage visible where her robe had parted. “What can I do for you this night?”

Galmar blinked, his mouth opening and closing several times. He met her eyes, confusion evident in his brows as she began to release buckles. “Dragonborn?”

“Yes?” She asked him, his bear skin falling to the floor in a muffled thump.

“Ulfric is considering a marriage to you,” he said quickly. Like that would stop her.

“Ah, yes. Being Nord and powerful would offer him an advantage as he reaches for High-King.” His chest plate joined the bear skin. Galmar stood perfectly still, his breathing rapid as she tossed the rest of his armor aside leaving him in leggings and a tunic. “It’s too bad for him that I prefer my men a little more… seasoned.”

“He will want heirs.”

“Aye,” she answered as she opened her robe let it slide off of her body. “I will give him heirs.”

“We can’t,” he whispered, his body tense.

“We can,” she replied as she pressed her skin against his leathers. “And if he wants me as his wife, he will accept my choice in having you as often as I please.”

His body shuddered, his erection pressing against her lower abdomen. She chuckled when he didn’t move, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought himself.

“Wouldn’t you like to fill me?” She asked him huskily as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. “Or perhaps you’d like me to beg?” He moaned, his cock twitching against her. “Does our age difference arouse you, Galmar?” She climbed his frozen body, her legs wrapping around his hips.

“Talos, woman,” he muttered but still didn’t move.

“I know you’ve heard me touching myself in our tent,” she whispered against his ear before giving it a playful nip. ”When you thought I was sleeping, stroking your own cock, I wanted nothing more than to be filled.”

“He will never let you bed another,” he told her.

“If he wants my hand in marriage, he will,” she replied. “Now take me to bed and let me feel my fantasies become reality.”

* * *

“You’re serious?” Ulfric stated, his brows rose in shock. “Galmar?”

“Yes,” Rava answered. “I will accept your proposal, give you heirs, but I will also enjoy your housecarl whenever I please.”

“And what does Galmar have to say about this?” Ulfric asked.

“Well…” Rava bit her lip then smiled. “He’s a little tied up at the moment but if you really wish to know you’re welcome to go upstairs and ask.” 

Ulfric gave her a disbelieving look but rose from the chair. Rava followed him up the stairs. When Ulfric entered the room, he froze in place. “A _little_ tied up?”

“Damn it, Rava,” Galmar grumbled. 

She chuckled as she approached the bed. “Yes, dear? Ready to give me another tumble?”

“I’ll tumble you alright,” he growled. “Leaving me tied up here for an hour while you sat down there chatting away. Release me.”

“You let her tie you to the bed?” Ulfric asked, eyes wide.

“She won’t hurt me,” Galmar told him. “Unless I ask her to.” Rava pulled the fur off of Galmar, his cock hard and leaking. He hissed from the stimulation. “Take the leather off my cock, woman.” Seeing him like this, almost helpless, turned her on. 

She straddled his thighs and quickly shed her robe. Ulfric had yet to move from his position. Galmar moaned in relief as she removed the leather strip. His relief was only brief as she tilted her hips and sunk down on him.

“Woman,” he growled, his arms pulling at the leather she had bound him with.

With a smile she moved her hips. Slow, teasing gyrations. Her breath caught when warm hands slid to her breasts from behind. It had been so terribly long since she’d had two lovers at once. Rava turned her face to meet Ulfric’s. Galmar moaned when the new lover’s lips met briefly.

“I accept your conditions, Rava,” Ulfric told her. He pressed her shoulders pushing her breasts against Galmar’s bared chest. She didn’t have to wait long to feel his lubricated cock pressing against her ass.

Biting her lip, she did her best to breathe through the intrusion. A pitiful whimper left her mouth when Ulfric’s hips pressed against her rear. They were all breathing hard.

Then he started moving. The men moaned but all she could do was breathe as Ulfric slowly thrust into her as she adjusted to the overwhelming fullness and sensations. 

“Please,” she pleaded, desperate for release. She cried out when both men thrust into her roughly. Her eyes watered when Ulfric gripped her hair and forced her to arch her back. Before she could catch her breath, they thrust again in unison.

They were not gentle as they took her, and her tears were that of need as they fucked her senseless.

“Release my hands, Rava,” Galmar whispered.

She did so, albeit shakily. Galmar gripped her hips hard as Ulfric moved his fingers to her clit. “Is this what you’re begging for, Rava?” Ulfric whispered in her ear.

Tears fell as they fucked her. It wasn’t painful in the slightest, but the sensations were nearly too much. When her orgasm hit her out of nowhere, she screamed. Hoarse low moans surrounded her while she was lost in the waves of her own intense pleasure.

“My Thane!” a familiar voice called though it felt as if it were miles away. “My apologies, I thought you were being attacked.”

Her chuckle was mirrored as she lay on top of Galmar, their sweat drying to each other.

“Ten septims he ran off to jerk it,” Galmar whispered.

“I’ll take that bet,” Ulfric replied. “But I’ll raise it ten. He’ll go to the whore house after he finds his needs unsatisfied.”

Rava groaned, “You’re both awful and I’m in. Fifty he hires several and partakes in an orgy until he collapses.”

They laughed, softening cocks slowly pulling themselves from her body as she shivered. When she was finally free, she let the men clean her body. Normally she would be up for another rounds, but with two lovers it seemed they satisfied her near unending desire for sex. 

“Shall we head to the palace for food? I’m starved,” Rava stated as she sat up in bed. 

“Yes,” Ulfric told her. “We’ll also begin the wedding plans.”

“Then perhaps later,” she flirted. “I can enjoy you both again.”

“Ravenous,” Ulfric teased with a smirk.


	8. FemDragonborn/Andurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **For Thestormbringer**

It was getting rather annoying having to travel all over Skyrim. Some days she felt like she was nothing more than a damned courier. 

Whiterun was one of her least favorite places to go but that was only because she hated running into Vilkas. But she was here so she might as well check in with Lydia and see how Breezehome faired. 

Entering the Hall of the Dead, she called out for Andurs. As far as she knew there were no bodies to prepare for burial, the guards would have been gossiping about who had died. 

With a sigh she made her way to his quarters. It was likely he was sleeping. Outside the heavy door, she dropped her pack and began to rifle through it for the dagger Alessandra had asked her to deliver. Since she was heading straight to her home, she went ahead and removed her helmet and gloves. She could have just dropped everything off on the way but she’d been impatient to get the request done.

Just as she suspected, Andurs was asleep. But… he was naked. And surprisingly toned for an old man. She took a moment to appreciate the ropes of muscles in his thighs before halting at his groin. His cock stood tall, she couldn’t help but lick her lips. It wasn’t that he was large, it was that she’d never seen a more aesthetically pleasing penis. 

She bit her lip wondering if he kept it clean enough for her to use her mouth…

Laying the dagger on his table, she approached him quietly.

“ _I spend so much time among the dead, I sometimes forget how much I miss the company of the living…_ ”

She was disappointed when he stirred as she stood next to his small bed. “Dragonborn?” He questioned sleepily before realizing he was stark naked. “OH!” His face burned red as he tried to cover himself.

Gripping his wrist, she leaned over him. “Now, now, Andurs, there’s no need for modesty,” she told him as she wrapped a hand around his length and began to slowly pull the skin back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cock this clean,” she praised.

“Just bathed,” he gritted out, his body tense. 

“I may have to worship Arkay if all of his follower’s are as meticulous as you in bathing,” she whispered before she leaned down and took him in her mouth. She’d barely began when he filled her mouth with his seed. 

Pulling a small stamina vial from her pouch, she handed it over. “Drink this.”

He didn’t argue or ask what it was. He tipped the vial back and swallowed as she stripped. Andurs stood from the bed, the man a head shorter than she, and helped her unlace her breast binder. She couldn’t stop the sigh of relief as her breasts were finally free. Andurs eyes widened when she turned to him fully.

“Can I…”

“Fuck my breasts?” She finished for him when he couldn’t put the words together. At his nod, she lay on his bed and waited as he straddled her. Gripping her breasts, she watched shamelessly as he rubbed oil on his cock before pressing himself against her sternum, his hands moving to the headboard for leverage. She loved this position and while she really wanted him to fuck her, she couldn’t resist the arousing anticipation of having to wait.

Andurs moaned as he gave an experimental thrust, his ball pressed tightly against her. Her own pleasured groans joined his as he began thrusting roughly, the head of his cock meeting her tongue as she impatiently waited for his cum. When his cock tried to slip free, she squeezed her tits tighter together, her grip almost painful.

“Dragonborn,” Andurs whispered before he gripped her hair and forced her mouth closer to his cock. Then he was spurting onto and into her mouth. She licked and swallowed his offering as he shivered above her. She absolutely loved this position. 

When he collapsed onto the bed, she moved to get another stamina potion before she stopped. He was breathing heavily behind her, the two orgasms nearly pushing him back into sleep. Instead, she lay next to him and let him hold her.

“If you give me some time, I will gladly make sure you leave here satisfied,” he whispered against her shoulder.

“There’s no need, Andurs.”

“There is, our exchange was very one-sided,” he replied. 

She laced her fingers with his and moved it to her breast. Even with their joined hands it was barely covered. “I happened to enjoy myself immensely,” she said quietly. “Perhaps if you aren’t opposed, I could stop in before I leave Whiterun?”

“I would like that,” he answered as he leaned up on his forearm to look down at her. Removing his hand from hers, he palmed her breast, the action pulling a surprised gasp from her. His eyes darkened before he took her hard nipple into his mouth and sucked. The heat that hit her forced her body to arch at the pleasure as his hand slid down her torso.

“Andurs,” she pleaded, his fingers barely grazing her moist cunt. He moaned as he shifted to take her other breast into his mouth, his finger slipping between her folds. He teased as she begged for more, his dark eyes taking in the way her body writhed for him as he pinched her clit. 

“Mesmerizing,” he whispered huskily.

The Dragonborn would definitely be returning to Whiterun. As often as possible, even if it meant being a courier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, I take f/m pairing requests!


	9. DB/Vilkas - Anger/hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonborn/Vilkas
> 
> **Hate Sex - Beast/human mating - Dubious Consent**

When Leya stumbled into her chamber, she found Vilkas asleep in her bed. _Her_ bed. The fucking bastard had the nerve to sleep in her bed knowing she was returning this night. Why did he think he could use her bed anyway? She was named Harbinger, not him. He hated her but Leya hated him just as much. 

Stripping out of her clothing, she tied on of his wrists down to the bed. He didn’t stir until she jerked his other arm up and did the same to the other. 

“What?”

She straddled him easily in his confusion, his flaccid cock squished between them. “Care to tell me why the fuck you’re in my bedchamber? Using my bed?”

Vilkas growled and tried to grab her. Her laughter was dark. “Release me.”

“I came all this way, rushing to get back here because of a favor you asked of me,” she told him evenly. “To cure your beast blood.”

His eyes widened as he looked up at her, “It can be done?”

“Yes,” she answered as she shifted her hips against him. “Then I come _home_ to find you, a man that has no problem reminding me how worthless I am, in _my_ bed. Naked of all things.” He closed his eyes but she felt him coming to life against her opening. “And since you so kindly use what doesn’t belong to you, I am going to use what doesn’t belong to me.”

“Leya,” he growled.

“And when I finally get some relief I couldn’t find elsewhere because I was rushing to get home, then I will cure you.”

His arms pulled against the leather as she took him inside of her, his eyes closing and mouth falling open when she began to rock. 

“How much does your beast hate me, Vilkas?” She asked breathily. “Enough to come forth and kill me while I find pleasure on your cock?”

“I have more control than that,” he answered roughly.

“Enough control not to fill me before I find release?” 

“Aye,” he answered. The man so loved a challenge. 

“Let us see how your patience has grown,” she whispered as the tension in her core built. Only when she neared the edge did she stop moving, her body shuddering angrily as she denied herself the release.

Again and again she pushed herself to the edge only to stop. 

“You’re denying yourself, why?” He asked, his voice tight and his body glistening in sweat.

“As I said, I didn’t have time to find a lover,” she answered, her hands spread across his chest as she waited for the heat to lessen. “You asked a favor of me and I thought it best to return quickly.”

“Untie my hands,” he ordered her softly. “At least allow me to repay you properly.”

Leya released him and waited for him to toss her off and leave. Instead, he ran his hands up her thighs to grip her hips as he rolled himself up into her. Her nails dug into his chest, her moan low as he rolled his hips up again.

Vilkas flipped them effortlessly, like she weighed nothing. He rested on his forearms, his hand under her head.

“Thinking of killing me anyway?” She asked him as she stared at her. “I have named you as the next Harbinger if you were worried who would lead next.”

“Nay,” he answered blinking away his thoughts. “I was debating on how to spend my last night as a beast,” he answered. “And if you would be able to mate me in beast form.”

She shivered, it wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of it. “Aye,” she whispered huskily. “I’ll let you take me as a beast.”

Vilkas groaned, his hips jerking into hers. “After your release,” he told her before crashing his mouth to hers. His was rough, desperate, as he ground his hips into her, his teeth drawing blood on her lip. Leya whimpered as the heat consumed her.

“Vilkas,” she whispered as she raked her nails down his back to grip his muscular ass. Then she was crying out, Vilkas pounding into her as his teeth found purchase on her neck. He pushed her through her orgasm, his hand gripping her hip tightly as he helped her ride through the waves that nearly took her breath away.

Only when her arms fell limply from his body did he slow to a stop, his mouth kissing the marks he’d left on her pale skin. But she could feel his body trembling as he kept the beast at bay.

“Vilkas,” she said roughly. “Help me to my knees,” she told him as she clumsily ran her fingers through his hair. 

“You’re sure?” He asked her softly, his worry written all over his face.

“Hell yes,” she answered. “But…would you let me touch you first? Before you mount me?”

He moaned but nodded his permission as he stood from the bed and helped her to sit on her knees facing him. In seconds a werewolf stood before her. When he didn’t move to her, she stood from the bed and stepped into his space.

“You worry I fear you,” she told him as her hands pressed into his fur. “But you shouldn’t. I may have said no to taking this form, but it wasn’t because of fear.” His large hands came to rest on hip hips as she pressed herself against his body and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It was because of the dragon blood. Come, Vilkas, and let this part of you find release. Later, should you choose, you can have me again.” Leya let her temple run along the side of his mouth. “And again and again if need be. I give you this gift in your last night of this curse.”

When she released him, and bent over the bed, he was on her. His growl against her neck arousing despite the warning tingle that ran down her spine.

“I will tell you if it becomes too much,” she told him when he hesitated, his cock brushing against her opening. 

By dawn, he’d taken her four times in beast form, his knot leaving her sensitive and a little sore. As the sun rose he took her again in human form, his passion and the intensity in his eyes bringing her to release as she clung to him. And he to her as he filled her.

By evening, he was free of the beast blood. She was a little sad about it, especially after their night, but then again she’d had no sleep. Lack of sleep had a way of making things feel more intense. When his familiar scent joined her in bed, she didn’t hesitate finding a comfortable position on him.

“There’s nothing I could ever do to repay you for what you’ve done for me,” he told her as his thumb caressed her side. 

“Perhaps being my second when I have to deal with Dragonborn business?” She asked him sleepily. 

“Aye,” he answered. “I would have done that regardless of what has happened between us.”

She smiled against his neck. “Are you getting soft on me, Vilkas?”

“Aye,” he told her before kissing her head. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

“Secret’s safe with me,” she told him quietly.

“I know,” he whispered as she drifted. “They always have been.”

Leya clumsily tilted her head back and kissed his neck, “And they always will be.”


	10. Breton DB/Eorlund Gray-Mane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Size Difference
> 
> This is all I've got pre-written for the moment.
> 
> * * *

The path to the Skyforge was empty like it always was. She often wondered if she was the only one that walked the trail to watch the Nord forge. Elte couldn’t resist watching the man. He was easily twice her size and she’d always lusted after larger men.

“Lass?” Eorlund inquired when she sat on the table. “Another request from the Companions?”

“No,” she answered breathlessly. “I just came to watch you work.”

The man stood, his body covered in sweat. He smelled of smoke, metal, and Nord. “Lass,” he said as he neared her. “My wife is going to be upset with how much time you spend up here.”

“She doesn’t know,” Elte told him. “She’s off in her own little world enjoying the loot I just brought her.”

“That so?” the aging man asked with a smirk as he stepped between her open knees. “Tell me, do you come here because you’re interested in smithing?”

“No,” she answered quickly as she spread her legs more for him. “I come to watch you.”

“Do you touch yourself when you leave here? Do you think of me filling you, lass?” Elte moaned, her legs wrapping around his leather armored hips. “Do you want a sweaty old man to fuck you on this table?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. 

Rough hands moved beneath the skirted armor, her smalls ripping. “I want you walking back home with my seed dropping down your thighs.”

Eorlund shoved her back against the table, his fingers easily unclasping the breast plate he’d made for her. As soon as her breasts were bared, he lifted her ankles to his shoulders. The leather of his arm grazed across her skin before shoved himself inside of her. Elte arched off the table, the thickness of his cock making her cunt flex painfully around him. 

There was nothing more erotic to her than fucking a half-clothed man that towered over her.

He pulled his hips back and shoved into her again, filling her completely. She cried out as he began fucking her in earnest. 

“That’s it, girl,” he growled. “I love seeing my cock in such a small pussy.” He thrust hard. “Filling you completely.” He moaned when she whimpered pathetically. “Did you think of me taking you like this?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“I’ll ruin you for any other,” he told her as he leaned over her, nearly pressing her knees into her breasts as he held her hips down. “It’ll be me you come running to for fulfillment.”

“Eorlund, please,” she begged. 

His chuckle was dark as he spread her legs. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.” So she did, her fingers delving between her slick folds as he watched and thrust into her. The tools on the table rattled and the wood creaked but all it did was aid in her impending orgasm as he talked to her filthily. 

She came with a loud cry, her back arching as he pounded into her relentlessly. Her cries and screams brought him great pleasure as he finally filled her. Elte could feel the seed pour inside of her, so much seed that when he pulled himself free, she heard it splatter to the ground.

“Hmm,” He mused. “Seems I filled you to capacity.” She could only whimper as he ran his finger over her clit before dipping it inside of her. When he presented his wet finger to her, she licked it clean with enthusiasm. “Little whore,” he praised with a soft smile. “I do hope you’ll visit me often.”

“Yes,” she agreed readily. Before he let her pull her tunic down, he buried his face between her small breasts and inhaled. 

“Such a delicious little slut, too,” he murmured before licking her nipple. “Now let’s get you dressed before my wife comes up here to tell me about the goods you sold her.”

* * *

It had been a week since she’d finished the last touches on her newly built home. It had taken a few months to build thanks to the numerous hands helping her. Now that it was done, she wanted to return to Whiterun. To Eorlund, more specifically. Dragonborn business had kept her busy, then she was excited to build her very own home… time had gotten away from her. 

“You haven’t come to see me.” Elte squeaked, her cup of mead dropping and spilling onto her porch. “I’m disappointed, little girl.”

“Eorlund,” she sputtered when he gripped the front of her robes and lifted her over his shoulder.

“I suppose it was good fortune I heard the locals at the inn gossiping about the Dragonborn’s new home.” He opened the door and entered. It didn’t take him long to find her bed. “Now I know why my little whore hasn’t been by. You haven’t found a better lover have you, girl?”

“No,” she answered before he tossed her onto the bed.

“I hope your housecarl has the sense to leave us be,” he told her as he removed his armor. “I plan to make you beg for forgiveness for staying away for so long.”

Elte could help from touching herself over her robe as he revealed his strong body to her. She loved the way he talked to her, like she was just his toy. But the way he touched her, how he made sure she found release… that was addicting.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered roughly. “Let me see how much you missed your old man, little girl.”

And maybe he got more out of their tryst than he said out loud. Either way, he was right. He’d ruined her for another lover, but she wasn’t complaining.


	11. Jon Battle-Born/Dragonborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Crystal_Grace
> 
> Warning: Horrible poetry ahead.

Jon sighed as he walked the dark streets of Winterhold. This was not the homecoming he’d imagined when he’d set off to the Bard College in Solitude. Olfina had promised to wait for him.

She hadn’t.

He should have known when her letters stopped coming, but he had lied to himself. He felt so utterly ignorant. Olfina had indeed found her an old, rich husband while Jon was away at college. The man had taken Jon’s love off to parts unknown. And she was expecting her first child.

“Plan to rob my home, Battle-Born?” A vaguely familiar voice called, pulling him from his misery.

“Pardon?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve slowly made your way past my home. My poor housecarl was afraid to leave me unattended,” the woman teased.

“Dragonborn,” Jon addressed quickly as a guards torch brought her features to light. “My apologies. I was lost in my own thoughts and merely…”

“Walking without a destination?” She interrupted.

Jon chuckled softly, “Yes. I’m very sorry to have disturbed your rest.”

“I wasn’t resting,” the Dragonborn replied. “I just returned long enough to grab a bath before dismissing Lydia. Perhaps you’d like to join me for a late meal and a bottle of ale?” His face must have portrayed his surprise at the invitation because she chuckled. “You can fill me in on how college went.”

Jon’s heartbreak was nearly drowned out by the jittery nervousness of entering the Dragonborn’s holding. She smelled of lilacs. It was lighter and sweeter than the scent Olfina had been. Jon had always enjoyed the citrus scent that had accompanied his past lover. Now he couldn’t bear it.

There wasn’t much to say about the Bard College but the Dragonborn listened attentively as they ate their stew and conversed. It was far more relaxing than he had anticipated. Even her laughter was soft and musical. Jon watched as her cheeks reddened with each drink of mead as they spoke of their travels. 

It was inevitable that he would admire her small, lithe frame. It was rare to see a Nord smaller than he. Jon had taken a lot of teasing because he wasn’t as large as a typical Nord. But where Jon had bulging muscles from swordplay, she had tone and definition. She preferred a bow or throwing blades.

Jon watched as she rose from the bench, her oversized tunic falling to her bared knees. He hadn’t realized she wasn’t wearing breeches. His breath caught in his throat as she straddled him.

“Tell me, Jon Battle-Born,” she whispered. “How can I aid you in your time of need?”

Her blue eyes darkened as his half-covered hands caressed her thighs. “What makes you think I am in need of aid?”

“I know a heartbroken man when I see one,” she replied quietly as her nimble fingers released latches on his armor. “No man walks around at night lost in his own mind unless he’s been hurt.”

Jon hummed his agreement as he slid his hands to her bare hips. “No loin cloth?” He asked, surprised. 

“Nay,” she answered with a smirk. “And my housecarl isn’t due back til the morn.”

“I’m not a rough lover, Dragonborn.”

“Most Bard’s aren’t,” she replied. “Warrior-Bard or not. And please, call me Maya.”

Jon couldn’t stop the shiver as Maya bared his skin to the chilled air. He wanted nothing more than to take her upstairs, but he also wanted her exactly like this. Half-dressed, cheeks red, and hair still a little wet.

“You smell divine,” he told her before brushing his lips along her jaw. He quickly moved his hands to his breeches to release his straining cock. Once he was free, he leaned back and allowed her to position herself over him. His body shuddered as she slowly sank onto him, her whimper ghosting across his ear. Talos she was tight, and so very wet for him. Olfina had never been this wet.

Jon watched as she moved her hips against him slowly. Watching a half-dressed woman ride him was one of the most erotic things he ever witnessed. And one of his favorite ways to enjoy pleasure. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered as her forehead came to rest against his. 

This experience was different than Olfina. This wasn’t rushed. Maya took her time, her hips slowly rocking as her breath stuttered against his mouth. 

“Jon,” she moaned.

“Yes, love?” He teased before nipping her bottom lip, her gasp making him growl. “Slow and steady, let me enjoy you as you take your pleasure.” The moisture he felt against his leathers was surprising. It wasn’t that he wasn’t experienced in bed, he’d just never lay with a woman that was so apparently aroused. “So wet for me,” he whispered against her ear as he moved to dip his thumb between her slick folds.

“Always,” she returned breathlessly. Jon shuddered at the conviction in her voice. “I’ve always wanted you, Jon,” she confessed.

His mouth crashed to hers in desperation, his need to be closer to her consuming him completely. Maya tasted of beef stew and mead but there was a spicy flavor that he assumed was just her. Sweet and spicy. So utterly perfect.

Maya broke the desperate kiss, her eyes meeting his as her hips sped up. He felt out of control, possessed as he met her stare. He watch her come apart on top of him in what felt like slow motion. Her cries of pleasure shook his soul as she bounced on his cock, demanding he find his own release. Jon gripped her ass as he rolled his hips up into her. Maya cried out, her tight cunt fluttering around him as her juices thoroughly soaked the leather of his armor. 

Sweat glistened on her brow as he found his release inside of her. Pure delight covered her beautiful features as his low moan reached her ears. Talos she was so incredibly remarkable. 

His smile mirrored hers as they held each other tight and tried to calm their racing hearts. He was sure he looked goofy, but in the moment he couldn’t find a care in the world.

* * *

It would be six months of enjoying time with Maya when he saw Olfina for the first time. Jon had been finishing some errands for his gorgeous lover when he’d accidentally bumped into his past lover.

“Jon,” Olfina whispered. There was a time he loved to hear her say his name. It didn’t sound nearly as sweet as it once had.

“Olfina,” Jon replied with a tight smile. “Congratulations are in order I hear.”

Olfina looked down toward her feet, “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he answered. It felt like an obligation as to not be rude. “If you will excuse me, Maya is waiting for my return.”

“Maya?” Olfina asked, her brows pinched in confusion.

“The Dragonborn,” Jon clarified. It was easy to forget very few people used her name.

“Oh,” Olfina said, her voice soft. “That’s who your ballad is about.”

“Yes! Though it’s more of a Sonnet.” Jon replied excitedly. According to Maya, his sonnet was being sang all over Skyrim.

Jon bowed politely before turning and making his way toward Breezehome, “She’s a lucky woman!” Olfina called. 

Jon disagreed silently. He, Jon Battle-Born, was a very lucky man.

_**Ode to the Lilac**  
A Sonnet by Jon Battle-Born_

_My enchanting Lilac, you inspire me to write._  
How I love the way you fight, laugh and sing,  
Invading my mind day and through the night,  
Always dreaming about the bruising zing. 

_Let me compare you to a musing moon?_  
You are more taking, breathtaking and lithe.  
Fair sun heats the aghast peaches of Myroon,  
And summertime has the amusing smythe. 

_How do I love you? Let me count the ways._  
I love your power, sweet and spicy.  
Thinking of your smile, sweet Maya, fills my days.  
My love for you is the steadfast high sea. 

_Now I must away with a breathless heart,  
Remember my love-filled words whilst we're apart_


	12. NordDB/Arngeir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Nord FemDB and Arngeir  
>  For: Thestormbringer**

Of all the stupid quests she’s done for the Grey Beards, this one was the most ignorant. Dragons didn’t understand the ways of humans. They ate humans. Or orc, or elf…

But here she was, trudging back through the damn snow to do Paarthurnax’s bidding. Like it wouldn’t get her killed. 

Priests were celibate. At least these priests seemed to be. And Arngeir wasn’t even the one she was attracted to. It was the youngest of the priests. She couldn’t remember their name and felt it rude to ask again. Arngeir already got annoyed by her constant questions.

How the hell was she supposed to bed the priest when he was always meditating? Or sleeping. She’d never even seen him eat. Did he bathe? Oh, by the Talos. What if he didn’t bathe?

“You seem agitated, young one,” Arngeir commented as soon as she stepped inside. She rolled her eyes. “Has Paarthurnax given such a difficult task?”

“Aye, you could say that,” she grumbled.

“Best not dally then, it only becomes heavier as time goes on.”

“Where are the others?”

“They are breaking their fast,” he answered softly. The man enjoyed meditation far too much to be normal.

It was now or never, she honestly didn’t think she’d have to courage later. Weapons clattered gently to the floor before she lifted her leather skirt and untied her loin cloth. It would be easy to remove herself from him should she hear someone coming, without outing what she was about to do. 

“Dragonborn?” Arngeir inquired, his eyes still closed. 

“I am to complete this task,” she told him, more for herself. Lifting his robes to his hips was easy. “I apologize for any discomfort.”

“I see,” the priest replied. “He worries I no long crave the needs of a human?”

“Aye,” she replied before untying his smalls. “I must return to him filled with your seed.”

She stood and took a deep breath. Closing her eyes she whispered to herself that she could do this. She flinched when a breathy chuckle ghosted across her cheek. A rough beard scraped along her jaw as he stood and walked her backward. “He thinks I’ve forgotten what it is to take a woman to bed, is that it?”

“I wouldn’t know what goes on in his mind,” she replied evenly.

“Or perhaps he knows how often I watch you bathe,” Arngeir whispered, her back hitting the wall. “How much I desire to be buried between your long legs while you desire one of my brothers?” How did he know that? She shivered when calloused fingers ran firmly up her inner thigh to the apex between her legs. “In the days of old, it was the priests that served the Dragonborn in whatever capacity they needed when they returned to the temple.”

A wanton moan left her lips as his fingers grazed her clit.

“Such a pretty little thing you are,” he whispered. “Now hush, we wouldn’t want eyes on us would we?”

“No,” she whimpered as he dipped his fingers inside of her. 

“Already wet and needy,” he said before dipping his tongue to her neck and licking her to her ear. “Mmm, perfect.”

It took everything she had to remain standing as his fingers pumped in and out of her. She had no idea how she lost control but she was sure she’d been tricked into this task. The priests breath was calm and steady against her neck as the wet noises filled the small space. It wasn’t fair how relaxed he was as he fucked her with his fingers.

“Arngeir, please,” she whispered brokenly.

“Very well, Dragonborn.”

The Nord whimpered when he removed his fingers only to gasp as he shoved her down on her knees none to gently on his meditation pad. Before she could inhale he was pushing himself inside of her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out at such a wonderful intrusion. He didn’t give her time to adjust, he merely thrust roughly into her as the sounds of their joining were muffled by his robes.

It was weird, unexpected, and completely arousing to be fucked in such an open area where someone could walk in at any moment. 

A hand in her hair, her head jerking back pulled her back into the moment. “Keep your mind here, Dragonborn,” Arngeir growled. His chuckle was dark when she mewled. It was almost embarrassing if not for the heat coiling in her core at being handled so roughly. 

“They can probably hear all the little sounds you’re making,” he teased. “My brothers are probably finding some enjoyment in their own meditations.”

How could he talk so easily? She could barely thinking straight with each jerk of his hips. When he reached between her legs and flicked her clit, she couldn’t stop the surprised cry that fell from her lips. It was almost too much pleasure and pain. He didn’t it again, her low moan ignored. It was hard to breath, there was too much happening. Before she could beg for relief, her body leapt over the crest. She couldn’t make a sound as the waves consumed her. Her body thrummed with pleasure as Arngeir fucked her senseless.

As soon as he released her hair, she fell onto the mat as he gripped her hips hard and raced to his own release. There was little she could do with her body boneless. Just take what he was giving her. An old man… A priest had just turned her world upside down. 

And he seemed completely unaffected as he stood. Had he come already? Was she so out of it she missed his release?

“Your task is complete, Dragonborn,” he murmured before patting her ass. 

“Can’t move,” she whispered. Her body was humming.

“Good,” her new lover replied with humor. “Rest. Once you’ve bathed I will have you again before you return to the mountain top.”

“Aye,” she returned shakily. What else could she say? She was ruined in such a wonderful way.


	13. VampDB/Vilkas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **For: Ms_Saboteur**
> 
> **Triggers: Blood Play, Violence, Hate Sex**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ms. Sab, you requested hate sex between these two and I've left it for two months unable to make it more violent and angry. I thought it best to go ahead and post it so you knew I didn't forget about you! Much love <3
> 
> * * *

The way Vilkas eyed her nearly made her laugh. Yes, she was the Harbinger. And yes, she was also a Vampire. Couple her immortality with dragon blood running through her veins and she was near impossible to kill. And insanely dangerous.

Vilkas could smell her tainted blood. She could smell the disgusting scent of wet dog. With Farkas it was adorable. But with his moody twin…

“Go brood elsewhere, Vilkas,” she commanded evenly. 

“Someone has to make sure you don’t suck our shield-mates dry,” the man growled. 

Layva couldn’t stop the soft laughter from bubbling up. She shook her head with a sigh, “I fed before I come as I always do.”

“What poor human did you kill this time?”

“A deer,” she answered easily. Other than the very willing slaves at her castle, she didn’t bother with humans. The slaves got sexual pleasure from being fed from, their blood was pure and clean. “I would not lower myself to drinking mead infested blood.”

“You disgust me,” the man grumbled before turning on his heel and stomping from her office. 

Getting lost in parchment was easy. Jobs needed done and Vilkas refused to aid in running the Companions, which was fine. Layva and Farkas had a deal when it came to jobs that needed attention immediately. 

The scent of sweat and smoke reached her nose before the gait could be heard. Tilma was aging rapidly. All the years spent in this place, raising orphan recruits, was catching up to her. 

“Layva dear,” the old woman greeted quietly as she entered the office.

“You have a request,” Layva stated. She was surprised Tilma had waited this long.

“Is it awful? Am I too old already?”

“Take a seat and tell me what ails you,” the Harbinger commanded softly.

“My boys,” the woman started. “I’ve raised them from young lads.”

“As werewolves they will live a long time, so long as they accept the change,” Layva told her. “But you will outlive them still. You will watch them age and die. Maybe they will have children and you will have grandchildren to raise or maybe they won’t. But you will still watch them die.”

“But if I were to ask,” Tilma began shakily before she took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. Layva loved the strength behind the frail appearance. “If I were to ask you to kill me later on, would you?”

“Yes,” she answered easily. “Many tire of the long years of immortality. You would not be the first I have given death to.” Layva took her hand gently, the steady thump of Tilma’s heart beating against her cold fingers. “Your pain would be gone, you’re wrinkles smoothed and sun spots diminished, but you will always remain at this age.”

Layva continued to answer questions and explain how the older woman would have to remain in hiding after so long so Whiterun wouldn’t suspect. How she would feed and avoid direct sunlight. They spoke until the wax had depleted on the desk candle, the light beginning to flicker.

With the rest of the Companion’s in their beds, Tilma decided she wished to undergo the transformation.

The Vampire Lord led the sweet, loving woman to her bedchamber.

“Bathe as I prepare myself, then wrap yourself in a robe,” Layva ordered. It smelled like Vilkas had been in here, probably making use of the water pump. He seemed to hate her but not her indoor water and self-draining tub. She would deal with that another time. For now, she must prepare to bring Tilma into her fold. It was a highly intimate act in Layva’s opinion.

The last Vampire Lord turned people without thought, whether or not they wished for such a long life. After Layva had sent the beast to his death, many had begged her to give them the same release.

Instead of swiftly giving them their death, she spent an evening with each one willing to enjoy life’s more pleasurable things. Once they were sated, she gave them what they craved. They took their last breaths with a smile. The very few that changed their minds, found new purpose in their life. But she would always grant them their death if they wished it at a later time.

The castle felt empty after the cleansing but the populace was much more joyful under her leadership. 

“Layva,” Tilma said quietly, pulling the woman from her thoughts. 

“Enter the circle,” Layva ordered. “Leave your robe. You will go into this clean and free from burden.”

“How long will this take?”

“A few hours at most,” Layva answered. “Then you shall be reborn.”

The older woman shivered as she took her place in the center of the circle. The chill would not bother her much longer.

“You, Tilma the Haggard, will be cured of the aging pains you feel. You will become my child of the dark. Honor my name and my family.”

“I will, Mother,” Tilma said, her voice strong.

“Kneel and fill your human heart with joyous memories.”

Layva untied her robe and sighed as he glided from her skin to the floor. Entering the circle, she kneeled behind Tilma and moved her wet hair from her neck. “The pain will not last. As I drink from you, keep your happier times in your mind.”

Without prolonging what was to come, Layva drank. Tilma’s body was tense under her as Layva tasted the love and memories in the woman’s veins. She drank greedily as Tilma’s heart began to slow. The spicy tingle that was the woman’s strength covered Layva’s tongue. She would always carry part of Tilma with her. Her child would always be part of her.

When Tilma’s heart took its last weak beat, Layva released her and tilted the woman’s head back. Shifting into her true form was quick. Layva quickly slit her wrist and held it over Tilma’s mouth until the thick, red blood began to drip off of the old woman’s chin. Now she would always carry a part of Layva, her Lord Mother. 

After carefully arranging the woman onto the floor, Layva left the circle and shifted back to human form. All there was left to do was wait.

It only felt like minutes to her, simply because time was felt differently to a vampire than a human. But it wasn’t long until Tilma’s body began to change. It was subtle things. Skin tightening, imperfections disappearing, and more muscle. This was Layva’s favorite part. Getting to watch an old frail human regain their physical youth always made her feel like she gave them something no other could. Perkier breasts, a more round rear, and flatter waist.

“Mother,” came the whisper from blood stained lips.

“Aye, my child,” Layva answered. “How do you feel?”

“Incredible.”

“I will stay with you to make sure you adjust, but then I must return to my duties,” Layva informed as she helped her new daughter stand. “It looks as if your hair may return to its natural color.” It was rare but it happened. “Perhaps you returned to me younger.”

“My knees don’t ache,” Tilma whispered brokenly.

“Aye,” Layva replied with a smile. “Come daughter, put on your robe and return to your room. Your body will need rest as the change finishes. Come morning meal, you will get to feel the complete change.”

* * *

The new recruits were more scared of her than Vilkas. It was almost laughable when they scurried behind the broody man. 

“If you can’t handle the Harbinger, then you can’t handle being a Companion,” she heard Vilkas mutter as she walked by. 

Tilma had yet to make an appearance which was why Layva was checking in on her daughter with a live rabbit in hand. The Companion’s thought her habit of carrying around small animals was odd. Eccentric. The Circle just continued with it as not to add suspicion.

The rabbit wasn’t her meal today, it was for Tilma. She would be hungry. A rabbit a day keeps the law away. She would have to speak to the Circle about keeping Tilma supplied while she was out.

As soon as Layva figured out what she was seeing, she chuckled. The gowns that once fit a frail old woman no longer fit. Where there was once bone was now softer. Fuller.

“My dear daughter, I see you’ve outgrown your wardrobe already!”

“What am I to do? I can’t afford to replace everything and I don’t have the time to sew new ones with all those kids out there.”

“Vilkas was guiding them out for training, put your robe on and come with me. You can have your meal while I dig through my old gowns,” Layva told her with a smile. Tilma had always been pretty, in Layva’s opinion, but getting to see her with fuller cheeks changed her whole appearance. Tilma the Haggard was no more.

* * *

With a pleased sigh, Layva stood from the bath as the door to her room opened. 

Vilkas.

A very angry Vilkas.

“How could you?!” He growled as he stomped toward her.

Lifting the bucket, she poured it over her head to rinse the soap from her body as the dirty water slowly drained from the tub. She could hear the fast heart beat coming from the beast yet she took her time blotting the water from her face with a dry rag.

“How could I what?” She asked finally. 

His eyes sparkled dangerously as stepped over the lip of the tub, her feet meeting the plush fur next to the tub. 

“Was it easy for you to turn an old defenseless woman, abomination?”

“Yes,” she answered with a smile. “I did as I was asked, or have you not spoken to her yet?”

“That matters little,” he returned heatedly.

So he hadn’t talked to Tilma. “It matters a great deal where my daughter is concerned.” Layva smiled internally when his eyes dropped to her breasts before he turned away from her.

“I should kill you, demon.”

“What’s stopping you?” She asked him as she silently circled around back into his line of sight.

“Tilma loves you,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“Aye, I am her mother. She would kill for me if I so demanded,” Layva said teasingly, the threat was not ignored.

His eyes narrowed and began to shine. He was fighting the beast. He always fought the beast and it would kill him. 

“Filthy mutt coming to the surface?”

Her comment was met with a right hook. She heard more than felt her jaw break. The room was silent as she turned back to look at him, her body healing itself before his wide eyes. 

“That all you got, beast?” She asked sweetly.

Perhaps he truly meant to kill her, she thought as he slammed her to the ground. It wouldn’t be fair for him if she fought back with full strength and that only proved to anger him more. 

Bones broke and immediately healed. Lacerations from being thrown about left dried blood on her flawless skin. Glass and wood shattered as she halfheartedly struggled against him, her laughter annoying him further.

The second the scent of his blood reached her nose, she moaned. She purposely steered clear of hunting wolves for fear she crave her shield siblings. But the scent was enticing.

Layva easily shoved him off of her but he was quick. He pinned her back to the bed, his growl nearly feral as the blood from his forehead ran down his nose and dripped onto her lip. Vilkas froze, a hand around her neck, as her tongue darted out to clean her lip.

She couldn’t stop the shudder of arousal at the taste. So much strength running through his veins. Anger and strength with a hint of wild. Vilkas tried to remove himself from her, but she wasn’t having it. 

With a devious smile, she slid her hand between them and easily freed him from his loin cloth. He hardened in her hand and he continued to try to break her hold on him.

Her laughter was dark as she used her legs to push him closer. The hand on her throat tightened as he thrust his own hips forward trying to fill her. The beast wanted to mate.

“Release me, demon,” he growled as his nose brushed hers.

She sighed happily before licking the drying blood from his nose. Her delighted moan pulled a grunt from him as he tried to fill her again. His leather armor kept him from getting more than the tip inside of her, but that didn’t stop the beast from trying to mount her.

It wasn’t the beast she wanted to put in his place, she’d save that for another day. 

She flipped them easily before pushing his leather armor out of her way. She was sinking down on him before he could react. She could smell his fear tampering his blood.

“You fear me beast? If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

When Vilkas tried to reach for her neck again, she gripped his hand, turned it, and licked his wrist as her fangs descended. His body stiffened as she ran her teeth along the soft skin while her hips slowly moved over him.

Without warning him, she bit the tender flesh and let his blood run over her tongue. She had no intention of feeding, only tasting and intensifying his pleasure. Feeding would have to come later. With a lick over the wounds, they closed. Layva let his blood drip from her mouth to her chin where it fell onto her breast.

The man’s muscles tensed. She smirked as she allowed him to flip her onto her back once more. All movement stopped as he stared down at her wide eyed. His angry, lustful confusion didn’t last long before he was shedding his armor, leaving her on the bed as each piece was thrown carelessly to the floor.

If she tasted his blood now, she knew it would be divine. 

Rising from the bed, Vilkas froze as the last piece of leather fell to the floor. “I have not changed my mind, Wolf,” she told him gently as she circled him. “I’m just curious as to how obedient you can be.” He growled. “Clean you blood from me.” When he reached for a rag in what was left of her chamber she halted him. “With your mouth. Lap it up like the dog you are.”

His eyes turned hard and he moved slow, but he obeyed. 

“We haven’t the time to dally, beast. I must feed soon,” she told him evenly. 

“Do you feed on humans?” He asked once he’d thoroughly cleaned her skin.

“Aye, only the willing,” she answered as she motioned him to sit back on the bed. “They find pleasure in it. It becomes a drug they must have.”

“Feed on me,” he whispered as she once again straddled him.

“Your blood is intoxicating, but tainted. It will not fill me.” He groaned as she slid him inside of her. He was so easy to hate and enjoy at the same time. 

“Whore demon,” he ground out before gripping her neck hard.

Layva hissed and bared her teeth to him in warning, but he didn’t heed it. He would never heed it. His strength was surprising as he pulled her toward his neck. A moan escaped her lips as her nails dug into his shoulders, her hips moving hard against him. He smelled delectable. So very delicious. But feeding on him would mean she would have to hunt during the day.

“Damn it, Layva,” he complained before gripping her still wet hair and pushing her lips to his neck. “I will find you a goat, please,” he begged.

“As you wish,” she whispered against his skin before she took. 

Her moan was echoed with his, large calloused hands slid down her body to her grip and squeeze her ass as she rode him hard.

Getting drunk on beast blood, while fucking said beast was the most intense enjoyment she had felt thus far in this life. When she’d take all she could safely take from the willing warrior, she licked the wounds to close them before dropping her head to rest on his shoulder. 

“Layva,” he moaned quietly. “You must come,” he panted breathlessly. 

She sat up and changed the angle, his dark eyes meeting hers as she took her pleasure. His blood made her skin tingle all over. Her clit throbbed almost painfully begging for attention. Delving her fingers between her folds, she gave in to her body’s need for release. Her gasps and moans were met with aroused growls from Vilkas. Her enemy turned lover as he helped her race to her orgasm.

As the waves washed through her body, Vilkas joined her in the land of bliss. 

She recovered before he did thanks to her never ending stamina. When she finally opened her eyes, he was watching her.

“I still don’t like you,” he muttered.

“The feeling is mutual, I assure you,” she replied. Vilkas snorted before gently tugging her down to plant a kiss on her lips. “You should take it easy the rest of the night to recuperate from the feeding.”

“I’ll get your meal in the morning then,” he replied. 

“Tilma will need a rabbit daily,” she told him as he rose from the bed.

“Why did you do it?” He asked her, this time much more calmly.

“You wish to know reasons that are not mine to tell. Speak with my daughter.”

Nothing more was said as he dressed and took his leave with promises of cleaning up her quarters. Likely because it would be Tilma that would be stuck with it. 

Vilkas may grow on her. 

Like a fungus probably, but at least he had a nice cock.


End file.
